


Watch Me Flying

by kimaracretak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s eleven years old, born to conquer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Me Flying

**Author's Note:**

> for the villainesses ficathon on livejournal a couple years ago, prompt: "You're a princess, dear, already/Sweep the bastards off their feet."

This is what Pansy knows: she is born with the right to rule singing in her veins. This is what she learns: her blood defines her, elevates her, it will ensure her a place at the head of a new order.  
  
When she is five, she cuts her hand on a sharp, flat stone she finds outside and watches in fascination as the red wells up and then drips down, down, down, staining the earth below her. It doesn’t look that special, she thinks, but her daddy says it makes her better than the other girls. Suddenly, she feels guilty for wasting it. She clenches her small fists so tightly her arms shake, trying to press the blood back in. _I take it back. This is what I am._  
  
She does not grow up pretty, but she grows up with the knowledge that she is special, that her blood makes her better. The others don’t see that at first, and they are vindictive in the way only children can be. _Don’t you see?_ she wants to say, _don’t you see that my face doesn’t matter? It’s my blood that counts. I’m pureblood. That makes me stronger than you._ She learns quickly that the right words in the right places make the girls fall, _one two three four_ like dominoes, until it’s just Pansy, at the top where she belongs.  
  
At Hogwarts, it is different. The girls gravitate to her, the boys eye her with a fascination she’s never seen in boys’ eyes before. She looks at the boys at the Slytherin table at the opening feast and thinks: _I will marry one of these boys_. She thinks: _These girls will wish they were me_. Let the mock her, envy her - it doesn’t matter. She can unmake them with a word because she will do anything, everything, to claim and keep her rightful place. She’s eleven years old, born to conquer, ready to see the world at her feet.


End file.
